Only Way Forward
by Fayth85
Summary: "Devon Dwyer, eldest of three. She'd recently moved to Sinnoh with her family and now seeks to start her journey with her very own Pokémon. What could possibly go wrong..." Trigger warnings: not for people who suffer from any form of anxiety.
1. Enter Devon!

_**Only Way Forward**_

_**"Devon Dwyer, eldest of three. She'd recently moved to Sinnoh with her family and now seeks to start her journey with her very own Pokémon. What could possibly go wrong..."**_

_**Chapter 1 - Enter Devon!**_

_**8-8**_

* * *

My name? Arceus, what do I write down? I don't want to write down 'Jake'. I hate that name! I mean, don't get me wrong it's a great name, it just should never have been mine. So what do I write?

"Need any help, darlin'?" One of the interns asks. I look up at her, marvelling at her hair, her subtle makeup, her expressive eyes, the way her uniform shows just enough bust to never let you doubt her sex. Everything she has, everything she is, I hate her for it.

"No." I look back down to my registration paper, once again wondering what to write. Let's see, mom's name is Chantal – a very pretty name. But no self respecting woman would name her daughter after herself – only guys do that. What about Grandma? Her name was... Margaret? A pretty name, but a bit old fashioned. What about dad's mother? I don't even know her, and mom never talks about his side of the family, so no help there.

You know what, it'll come to me. Let me fill in the rest of the form for now. Sex? Female, duh. Birthday and age? I'll just write down ten for now, seeing as tomorrow is my tenth birthday. Residency? Solaceon Town in Sinnoh, duh. Hair color? Why would they spell colour without the 'u'? Whatever, it's black. Eye color? Again with the bad spelling! Grey. Height and weight? I don't know! Do I look like a paediatrician? That's getting skipped.

I go through the form quickly enough, wondering why they are asking half the crap I read. I mean, the Sinnoh Pokémon League Registration shouldn't need to know my allergies!

Now, there's just the name. What is my name? What name do I like enough that can help me get away with... No, I'm not 'getting away' with anything! I am simply stating the truth that no one seems to understand! I am a girl! I've always been a girl! And this might be my only chance to have half a hope in truly being me!

"Ah!" Auntie Devon! Mom used to tell me about her all the time! Well, usually before breaking down in tears and hiding in her room for the rest of the day.

Name. Devon Dwyer. I nod at the form, solidifying my very first step. Wordlessly I hand it over to the intern and wait. She flits through it, checking that I filled everything in. I notice that she sees the height and weight I left empty. She eyes me for a second before scribbling something there.

"Perfect. I'll just enter this in our National database. Have you already received your invitation to receive your starter Pokémon?" She's asks, trying to be as friendly as she can while still being professional. I shake my head, no. "That's okay. Professor Rowan is currently unavailable anyway, so you'd have gone all the way to Sandgem Town for nothing." She babbles on about whatever that person does, and how irresponsible it is for the 'senile old coot' to just up and go on a research trip and a whole bunch of crap I don't bother following.

"Look, I'm not really supposed to tell you this, but I know you're probably dying to get your first Pokémon. So I'll let you in on a little secret if you promise you won't get me in trouble for it?" She's nice enough, I guess. I nod. "Okay, you know the Day Care Centre? Well, my boyfriend works there and he told me about this egg he found there yesterday. The trainer already came for the Pokémon, but said they didn't want the egg, so now they're looking for someone to adopt it!"

"So, if you go to there and ask for Trevor and tell him I sent you, he'll probably let you take the egg. Of course, you'd have to swear on everything sacred to take care of it, but this way you wouldn't have to wait for that old coot to come back – whenever that might be." Okay, so she's nice. Not that I'll hate her any less, but at least she's nice. "Just make sure you don't flirt with my boyfriend after all I've done to help you out, okay?" She has a teasing smile on her face, and she winks at me too.

I nod, wondering what she even means by that. "You must be pretty shy. So I guess I don't have to worry about that, now do I?" I shake my head, wondering about that. Sure, I've never really been very good with people, but I don't consider myself shy. "Well, alright then. Just remember what I said. Ask for Trevor and tell him that Jen sent you."

"Th-thank you." I nod, and hightail it out of there.

_**8-8**_

* * *

Refusing to risk messing up the chance I am given, I run all the way to the Day Care Centre. It's almost a ten minute dash, but the chance to get my first Pokémon is worth being out of breath!

The sun hides behind a could... no, not _a_ cloud. The whole sky seems to be one giant cloud right now. Hm, if I'm lucky it'll rain soon. I wonder if it'll be a Water-type Pokémon. Or a Grass-type. I hope it's not a Fire-type, I love being in in the rain too much to ever be truly friends with a Fire-type.

Coming close to the open ranch-like expanse, I can see dozens and dozens of Pokémon in the distance – all safely within the fences of the Day Care Centre, I suppose. I'm not really very good with spotting Pokémon, so I don't recognize many of them.

I don't want to risk wasting too much time, so I don't stop to admire them this time. Instead, I sprint straight for the door and almost fall over my own two feet trying to slow down enough to not run head first into it. I pull the door open and dash inside, looking around for the nice little old lady that's usually behind the counter. Not that I've ever talked to her before, but I've seen her there every time I come to admire the Pokémon, and she's always seemed nice enough.

"Whoa there! Where's the fire?" Some guy asks, motioning for me to calm down. I don't recognize him, but I usually avoid people anyway. He's about twice my height, is wearing a cowboy hat, a plain white short-sleeve t-shirt, jeans and the usual cowboy boots that everyone wears around here. His tan is pretty dark, but I think that's because he works in the sun all day, every day. "Wait, you wouldn't happen to be Devon, now would you?"

Even though I'm fighting to catch my breath, I nod. "Jen just called saying you might swing by, but I didn't expect you so soon! What'd you run all the way here?" He asks. I guess he sounds a little amused, but he could be teasing me too. I nod again.

"Well, alright. I guess you want to adopt that egg then, huh?" I nod fervently! I REALLY want my first friend! I never did have many friends before. I mean, the only one I ever play with is Jack, and he's barely two years old!

"I see. Well, I can't just have anyone come in off the street and take an egg. It's a major responsibility!" He informs me. Is he... telling me no? But I... but Jen... I thought... I have to fight back the tears now. This scene is all too familiar to me: she promises the stars, but he shoots them down before I even get there.

"Aww, come on don't cry!" He says, motioning for me to calm down again. For all his cool-guy bravado, he clearly doesn't know what to do now. "Hey, look I don't mean you can't have the egg!"

"Trevor, what's going on here?" The nice little old lady comes through the door from wherever she was hiding. "Are you out here making little children cry?" I'm not crying! I don't like crying!

"Aww, come on Mrs McKinney! You know I didn't mean to make her cry!" Trevor sounds overwhelmed and unsure what to do – I know the tone well enough. The two keep saying things to each other, but I'm too busy trying to calm down. I don't like crying, but I hate people seeing me cry.

"Oh, I recognize you now. You're the one that stands out by the fence and daydreams about our Pokémon, aren't you?" The nice old lady asks – I guess that means her name is Mrs McKinney? "You've been standing by that fence every day for the past two weeks. I always did wonder why you never came inside to ask about them. What's your name, dear?"

"D-devon." I hate myself for never being able to get out so much as a word without stammering, stuttering or otherwise messing up the beauty of the words I love so much.

"My, that's a lovely name. Tell me, Devon, would you like some lemonade? It's home made." I try to smile a little at her kind words, and her offer. I'm just not really sure if I did or not. "Trevor, be a dear and fetch it for me, will you?" I hear the warmth in her voice, both when talking to me and to Trevor. She reminds of me Grandma.

Mrs McKinney motions for me to come closer, while she takes her time moving to her usual seat – at the table in the corner, near the window she peers out of. Every time I come by, she's always sitting in that chair. She always seems to be gazing out at the same Pokémon as me, but I never could say for sure what she was thinking. "Please, have a seat." She nods to the chair opposite hers.

I'm not sure why, but I did just that. Trevor came back with a jug filled with a yellow-brown liquid and a huge chunk of ice, and two glasses to pour it into. Without being told, he places one of the glasses in front of me and pours it half full, repeating the process for Mrs McKinney. "Thank you, Trevor. Now run along, I'm sure you have enough work to do to."

While she sips at her lemonade, I can't help but study her. She's wearing the same buttoned plaid shirt and jeans she always does. Her hair is short and grey, but shines to show she cares for it and styled like those ladies in those old Wild West movies – long in the back, with bangs in the front and clearly missing her usual cowboy hat.

"Is it sweet enough for you?" She asks, probably noticing that I haven't even tried it yet. I slurp a little from the glass. It's sweet, so I nod. I take another few sips, but I wasn't really thirsty to begin with. "Tell me, Devon, how long've you been in town?"

"F-few w-weeks." I don't dare looking her in the eyes when she's looking at me. It's not that she scares me, I just get nervous when people are looking at me.

"Are you settled in then?" She asks again. I just nod. "You live with your family?"

"Y-yeah." I smile, actually smile this time.

"Your father and mother?" I shake my head, telling her my dad didn't move with us. "I see. Any siblings?"

"J-jack." I smile, thinking about my little brother. "He's t-two." I frown, wondering if I should bring up Julie. It's not that I dislike my baby sister, I just... well I love her, but I hate her too. It's... complicated.

"Do you help take care of him?" She asks. I can't tell what she's thinking, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I stutter out a yes, wondering where she's going with this. "What do you help with?"

"Ev-vryth-thing." Wow, a double stutter. I guess long words are worth mangling twice.

"Minding him?" She asks. I nod. "Feeding him?" I nod again. "Bathing?" Again a nod. "Did you ever have to change his diaper?" I make a face this time, but nod anyway. Dirty nappies aren't my favourite thing in the world.

"Anything else?"

"I read." I can't hold back a goofy smile this time. Jack's favourite time of day is story time, and it's mine too.

"Read what?" She asks. I can feel her eyes on me this time. I don't know how, but I can.

"Swift. Moore. Tynan." My three favourite poets: Jonathan Swift, Thomas Moore and Katharine Tynan – mostly Katharine though.

"I've never heard of those stories. What are they about?" She asks.

"Not stories. They're poets." I correct her. How could she not know?!

"I see." She seems almost happy about something. "And what would be your favourite poem then?"

"Immortality." I can remember each and every word of that poem off the top of my head – it's one of the poems I read for Jack when it's time for his nap.

"I see. Would you recite a part of it for me?" She asks.

"I clothe myself without a stain, In me a child is born again," I can almost hear Jack yawning. He's usually half asleep by the time I get to this stanza – it's the fourth or the fifth I think. Between stanzas I always hum a soft, slow melody for him to help him fall asleep easier. It takes a while to read a full poem that way. "A child that looks with innocent eyes, On a new world with glad surprise."

When I stay silent for a while, she guesses that I've recite all I'm going to. "It's beautiful. Who wrote it?"

"T-tynan." I can't help but smiling. I really do like that poem.

**_8-8_**

* * *

I walk. I should be running – mom doesn't like it when I come in soaked from the rain. I can't bring myself to care enough. I walk.

The way these raindrops kiss my skin, my hair, my clothes. This gorgeous clean air around me. I never did like the world smelling like dust and cattle poop, so I love it when it rains. I can see my house in the distance, and I really should hurry inside before I come down with something. I won't; can't.

Oh, if only I could stay outside in the rain forever, or at least in the shower. Mom doesn't like me taking forever in the shower – she complains that I'll make her spend all her money on the water bill.

All too soon, I'll enter my personal hell. I'll be stripped of all I hold dear by people who praise me one moment, only to slay me the next. No, I'll take my time walking home.

These last hundred steps. I can no longer walk, I trudge. My feet seem unwilling to stray closer to that place. I almost have to drag my leaden shoes up the three steps, and I really do drag them to the door. I enter without knocking, praying no one will notice me. Shaking off as much of the rain I can, I run up the stairs and straight into my room. I grab some clean clothes and run to the bathroom.

Once inside my private fortress, I lock the door and twist the knob to test it. Quickly, all too quickly, I undress and lay my clothes out to dry. For the sake of my comfort, my eyes are trained upward to hide my shame from sight.

I run the water, as hot as I dare to bear. As it claims me, I shiver. The last of that cold fear is swept away in this gorgeous deluge. With an ease only routine can offer, I wash away the worst of the day. I comb my fingers through my hair a few extra times, wondering at how long it has grown and the slight weight I feel shuffling across my neck as it moves.

"Jake! Please don't stay in there forever!" I hear mom shouting through the door. I flinch at the name. Suddenly, as if life is playing some cruel trick on me, I become all too aware of that... _thing_ hanging between my legs.

I sigh. And the shower was doing me so much good too. I sigh again, shut off the water and reach for my towel. With the magic lost, I see no reason to stay here any longer than needed.

_**8-8**_

* * *

Later. At dinner. John's being fussy with his food. He can't seem hold his chopsticks. Julie's being breastfed. Mom cradles her with one hand and sneaks a mouthful of her food every chance she can. "John, please eat your dinner."

"But mommy! My hand huwts!" John complains. He's still not used to eating with chopsticks, or pronouncing the 'r' in a word. Not that I blame him for the chopsticks – too many changes too quickly.

"If you can manage two more mouthfuls, I'll help you with the rest." I say, offering a little smile as well.

"Weally?!" John really is rambunctious and a bit boisterous, but I love him just the same. "Tanks, Jake!" I flinch. Well, I mostly love him just the same. "You'we the bestest big bwothoh! EVOH!" This time I sigh, but I try to smile for him anyway.

I shovel in my meal, chew and swallow. It's mechanical, needful. There is nothing more to it.

"Jake! Dat's two!" John lies. I saw him move his rice twice, nothing more. I scoot over to him anyway – anything to shut him up.

**_8-8_**

* * *

It's bedtime. John grabs his favourite book – whichever that is tonight. Oh, it's _Turtwig's Grand Adventure_. Last night his favourite was _Professor Piplup_. Gee, what _will_ it be _tomorrow_. Probably something with Chimchar.

I tuck him in and turn off the big light, leaving only his night light to 'read' by. I never read the words of the book he wants – he just likes to look at the pictures. No, I always recite poems from memory. He never makes it to the last stanza anyway, and I doubt he'd care what some grown-up thinks is important about life. No, tonight's story is 'Any Woman' by Katharine Tynan.

"I am the fire upon the hearth, I am the light of the good sun, I am the heat that warms the earth, Which else were colder than a stone." My rhythm is slow and even. My pain subsides for a moment. I hum the lullaby mom used to sing for me – memories of simpler days. The page turns, there's a picture of Turtwig looking surprised about something, but I don't care enough to read what happened.

John yawns, his eyelids grow heavy. I kiss his brow, and continue onto the next stanza. I wonder if I could ever come up with a logical reason for him to call me Devon and never tell mom about it.

_**8-8**_

* * *

Morning comes. I love mornings. Not because I have to wake up, but rather because I never quite wake up enough to remember my troubles. So there's a thirty to forty minute window where I don't know what problems are – the only part of my day I actually like.

I stumble into the bathroom, sit to pee. I wipe with a little toilet paper. I brush my teeth wash my face and I remember to flush to toilet on the way out – I can't count how many times I've gotten in trouble for forgetting to flush.

In my room, I change into something clean – mom only lets me shower once a day, complaining that even that is getting too expensive for her. Then I make my way downstairs. John and Julie are already up and about – John's crawling around after our little sister. I smile at the scene, wondering when things got so complicated in my life.

I don't dare leave without giving both of them a kiss, but I don't tell mom I'm leaving. I ease the door close behind me and I dash down the road. I don't greet the unfamiliar faces – not even the ones that hail me. And before I know it, here I am again. At the Day Care.

Climbing up onto the wooden fence, I gaze at the Pokémon before me. There's a big blue one in the water sloshing about as it goes. It seems to have an angered look painted on its face and doesn't act very nice to the others.

There's a Piplup – I recognize it from John's books. I think that one there is a... Chatot? I don't really know many Pokémon on sight, I guess.

"G'morning!" I look towards the sound, wondering why I recognize the voice. It's Trevor, and he's waving at me. No, he's waving me over to him? Jen is obviously with him too – I recognize the pinkish-red hair.

I ignore both of them. What could they possibly have to say to me? And why would I speak to them when they gave me all that hope of getting a Pokémon, only for it to be taken away. No, the majestic creatures before me are getting my attention.

There's another one I don't recognize – it's small and pink-purple and seems to almost ooze around, like it's really a liquid. I can make out features that look like hands, and there's a bump that has a smile and is winking at a big tan and red fox chewing on a stick. Slowly, the little pink-purple one shifts and churns itself, turning into a clone of the fox? Okay, that's a bit weird.

"Hey." I don't turn to Jen. I know she's there, but I don't want to talk. People only seem to upset me when they talk to me these days. Can I at least not be troubled on my birthday? Just this once? "Trevor told me about him putting his foot in his mouth yesterday. I swear, that boy..."

As interesting as she thinks she is, I'm not in the mood. "Anyway, I have to do my rounds here before I go to the Pokémon Centre. Do you want to tag along?" I just want to be left alone, but I don't have the words to offer her. I shrug. "What's wrong, Devon? What's bothering our birthday girl?"

"N-nothing." I lie. I really don't like talking to people, especially people I'm jealous of.

"So why are you here moping by yourself? And why are you dressed as if you plan on getting dragged through the mud? You should be wearing your prettiest dress and getting your hair done and flaunting that pretty smile of yours." That all sounds great in theory. Only I don't own a dress. And I almost never smile. Just leave me to my misery.

"Is it true that your parents just got divorced?" I'm quick to wipe away a lone tear as it falls. Somehow I'm still naive enough to think she'll leave me be, but that hope is dying fast.

"Hey, I'll tell you what..." What? You'll leave me alone? "If you come with me, I'll take you shopping and we'll pick out a nice dress for you."

"Go away." I'm just barely not begging her – but I would if I thought it would help.

"I can't do that. Not until I understand how I can turn this horrible day into the best day of your life." Great. The only way to shut her up is by me, myself, talking. Wonderful. A real step up. "Come on, Devon. You don't want me to be late and get in trouble because of you, right?" Emotional blackmail already? But we just met.

"I..." Should I trust this person? Should I dare to open up? Should I bare my soul for her perusing pleasure? "I was s-supposed to start my j-journey today." Not a chance in hell.

"So what's stopping you?" She asks, obviously forgetting something important. I nod at a group of Pokémon as they... do whatever Pokémon in a field do. "I know you didn't get a starter Pokémon from here, but didn't you get one back home? I mean, you're eleven today after all."

"Ten." I correct her. "I'm ten."

"Oh?" Confused? "Oh!" Surprised! "Owh..." And there's understanding... I don't even bother to try understanding what she just figured out. I just don't have the brain capacity for it. "So the world's conspiring to ruin your maiden voyage..." I snort at the ironic choice of words.

"Well, that's easy to fix." I don't need more false hope. Please, just leave me be. "You're coming with me, young lady."

"You're not going to leave me alone." I intone. I'm really not in the mood for this.

"The thought hasn't even crossed my mind. Now come on. I don't want to have to drag you."

**_8-8_**

**_End Chapter 1_**

**_8-8_**

* * *

**_A/N: Slight change up thanks to a review from _**Imaginary-Friend-Q.


	2. These bars unseen

**_Only Way Forward_**

**_"Devon Dwyer, eldest of three. She'd recently moved to Sinnoh with her family and now seeks to start her journey with her very own Pokémon. What could possibly go wrong..."_**

**_Chapter 2 – These bars unseen_**

**_8-8_**

* * *

There are things. Things that happen. Things that are horrible, and cruel, and… nice – or so I've heard.

The day with Jen? It was so nice, and warm, and bright, and sunny, and filled with hope. She took me in to meet all the Pokémon, introduced me, taught me their names. She guided me through the entire ranch, talked about having met Trevor because of these rounds, how sweet he is on her and how sweet she tries to be in return. She talks about being born in raised in a big city, about hating it there. She talks about how she was attacked by some thug, tried to steal her purse and was halfway to beating her up for it, about how a wild Pokémon saved her.

She talks a lot.

But she was so nice to me afterwards. She took me into town, bought me a dress with her own money. Even let me pick the dress myself. She'd suggested a very festive one, full of frills and beads(?) and glitter and a whole bunch of stuff. I only wanted a simple one. A sundress, yellow, with sunflowers… so many sunflowers.

It's the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, ever worn. Ever owned.

But it doesn't matter. I can never wear it again. I can't, so long as I'm trapped here. Trapped in this… 'reality' that never changes. Trapped in this body that will only grow worse with time.

I should consider myself fortunate, I suppose. I eat three square meals a day. I have a roof over my head. I have people that smile when they see me.

And yet…

Would those smiles be there? If I was to say what troubles me, if I were to say that… that this body is the greatest lie I ever told? That the name Devon fits me a million times better than 'Jake' ever could? If I put that into words, if I tell my mother, will that smile still be there? Will there still be a roof over my head? Will I still eat three square meals a day?

That's why I need my first Pokémon. Because I need to get out of this prison. Out of this 'reality'. Out of this sand trap of lies and deceit and falsehoods that can never truly allow me to breathe. And I need to breathe! Four letters –'Jake'– strangle me a little more every day.

I just want to breathe.

Can I? Can I breathe? Can I breathe for once and not feel guilty? Can I do silly things and not make people mad? Can I ogle boys, can I make friends, can I open my mouth and say what's on my mind? Can I do these things without the threat of violence?

Can I… daddy?

Oh right. I can't. I never could. I probably never will. Because wearing lipstick and ogling cute boys on television was too much for you. So much that I was in a coma for three weeks. So much that when I finally woke up, when mom asked me what drove you over the edge, I had to pretend I couldn't remember. I had to pretend the concussion you gave me affected my memory. I had to listen to doctors explaining me that the memories will come back in time, not to worry about it, not to force it. I had to pretend that I could, or would, ever forget the rage in your eyes, the names you called me. I had to lie… to make sure that mom never found out… that she wouldn't get that same look in her eyes.

I had to lie to myself –and have been lying to myself ever since– wanting so desperately to believe that I am worth loving.

Two days ago, I gave that lie a name. I call her Devon. And now…? Now hearing 'Jake' is even more painful. Hearing mom refer to me as 'he' hurts just as much as 'Jake'. Being called John's big 'brother' is enough to bring me to tears.

And don't worry, daddy. You might be gone, locked away in prison were animals like you belong. But out here, in the 'civilized' world? There are more than enough animals in business suits spreading your hate. I should know. I've heard them spreading it. I've listened to them telling me the exact things you said that day. That day, as you beat me with your bare hands. As you slapped me. As you punched me. As you kicked me over and over, hard enough to break three of my ribs, fracture two more, and bruise another eight.

Telling me that I am diseased. That I am the product of the times I am born into. A symptom of this fallen world. A victim of the final battle… arma-something. I've listened to the preachers and pastors saying it. I've listened to the psychologists saying that I am deluded, that I've made up this elaborate fantasy and allowed myself to think I'm a girl.

I've listened, and I've learned. I've heard, and I've internalized. I know that. I know, to the very core of my being, that you are wrong. And yet…

How does that saying go again? If you say something a hundred times, it becomes true? I've only ever said the name Devon once out loud. Ever. So why does that feel more true than 'Jake' ever has? I've never believed that being a girl is a delusion. So why does it still feel true? Is it because I am deluding myself to believe that the world could accept me as I am?

"Jake!" I flinch. "Dinner's ready!"

**_8-8_**

* * *

I don't wait for John to come up with an excuse tonight. I don't wait for him to ask for help. I just help him, even before I eat. It's not like I'm hungry anyway. Once he's had his fill, I take his empty plate into the kitchen and wash it. I dry it. And I put it away, right where mom always puts it. I go back to the table, and I shovel my food in. I try to make it look like it's delicious – it probably is. I just can't bring myself to care.

"Are you alright, Jake?" I flinch. I nod anyway, getting back to my dinner. "You don't look alright." I shrug, not wanting to talk about this. I shovel in the food faster, wanting to just get away from this. Away from this house, from these people, from these bars I've never been able to see but always feel wrapped around my chest, making it impossible to breathe.

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing." I lie easily. Lots of practice.

"Your hair's getting really long again. Isn't it about time for you to cut it?" She says. I shrug, not wanting to talk about that. The meat's a bit tough, so I have to chew it carefully before swallowing. I'd rather not choke. "You know, I used to enjoy our little talks… back in the day. It feels like I can barely get a word out of you anymore."

"Sorry." I study my plate, not wanting her to see how much I miss those talks. I want to, to talk to her. I want to so bad it hurts. She wouldn't understand. No one would.

"Don't be sorry, baby. Talk to me." She almost begs.

"It's good." I say, still studying my plate.

"The food?"

"Nn."

"Then why do you look like you're only eating it to make me happy?" I could always not eat. Is that better? I shrug, wondering if I'm shrugging at her question or mine. "You've been off the antidepressants for almost two years, baby. Do you think I need to get again?"

"No." They won't solve anything. They didn't then. They won't now.

"Then why is every move you make screaming depression again?" Maybe because I am depressed, but the problem isn't getting solve? I shrug. "Jake?" I flinch, tears stinging my eyes this time. Go back to 'baby', please.

"Yes?"

"Why do you react that way when I say that name?" I shrug. I can't even force myself to eat anymore, but I know better than to walk away. If I turn around, if I turn my back to you… that's when _he_ struck. I'm not giving you that chance. Not when you're starting to figure this out. "Is there a name you'd rather I call you?" I don't react. I don't dare to.

Devon. I'd rather you call my Devon. Not that you ever will. Not that you'll ever understand.

No one could ever understand. Not with these bars I need to break, these bars you could break. But you'd have to see them first. Therein lies the rub.

"… Baby, I know you're hiding things from me." My breathing shallows instantly. The bars tighten. My chest tightens even more. "I know you've been avoiding me because of these things you're hiding."

I don't move. But I study her. I study her oh so carefully. I study her eyes especially, waiting for that moment, that change… that hatred.

"Baby, please breathe. I don't want to move, because I know it's only going to freak you out more." I don't react, I don't move. And frankly, breathing isn't exactly easy right now. "Baby." I hear the tears in her voice, hear the worry. "Baby, please. The last time your heart almost stopped. Please, just calm down."

I… I can't calm down. I can barely breathe, so how do you want me to calm down? "I swear to Arceus, baby, I'm not mad at you. About anything." She claims. The first tears streak down her face. "I know about the dress. I know about you registering as Devon, and not Jake."

My ribs lock. Breathing stops. "I know, and I'm not mad at all. I'm not upset. And I'm not going to hurt you. I swear." More tears. More and more tears.

A breath. Shallow, raspy, painful. "Yes, please. Please, just breathe." Tears. Mine, not hers. My body's wracked with sobs. Pain. So much pain. Everything hurts. Fire. My lungs burn. They crave oxygen.

"Listen to my voice." She begs. "Listen to my tone, look at my eyes. I'm not mad. You know I'm not mad. So please… baby, please just breathe." I breathe. Shaky. I force myself to breathe deeper. Or less shallow. I can't say for sure. Another breath, shakier than the last. More tears.

"That's it." She soothes. "Just breathe. Breathe, nice and deep for me." I try. I try breathing with my stomach, since my ribs won't work with me. It isn't working much better.

"That's it, Devon." Tears come in full force, my body shaking, hands shaking, world shaking. "It's alright, baby. It's alright. Just keep breathing for me, okay? I promise, I can make this alright. All you have to do is breathe." She bargains, sounding further and further away.

Tunnel vision. Dark. It's so dark. "Devon? DEVON!?" I hear a noise. A thud. I feel pain. I…

**_8-8_**

* * *

"…breathing… overnight… feel better…" What's going on?

"…trouble… I appr… she… nk you…" Mom? Is that you? I try to will away to fog, the cobwebs. I find myself breathing a little easier. Breathing.

"…nderstand, ma'am… ver seen a panic attack so bad… re you sure she'll be alright?"

"It's fine, officer. Really. She used to have these attacks a lot some years ago. I'm just glad you got here as quick as you did." Mom? That's mom! I know the voice.

"Again, ma'am. I understand. But please understand for me, that I'm not going to sleep well if I'm not positive she'll be alright." An unfamiliar voice. Obviously the 'officer'.

"I'll make you a deal. How about I go talk to her about the thing that caused the panic attack while you're still here? That way, if things don't go well you're still here and we can still take her to the hospital?" Mom bargains.

"… I'm… not sure I understand. You want to talk to your daughter, that just had a panic attack, about the thing that caused said panic attack? And you want me to be reassured?"

"Yes." Mom sounds sure. "She had a panic attack, because she thought I was going to react badly. She's calm now. I know the problem exactly. I've already been taught to cope with her situation. As I said… she used to have these a lot more often."

"… I…"

"Officer, I can't discuss the details now. I promise, I will explain after I speak with her. But I have a narrow window and you are likely wasting it."

I open my eyes, wondering what's going on. "A'right. If you say so."

"Thank you."

**_8-8_**

* * *

Some time passes. Mom enters the living room, with a tray. I seem to be on the couch, but for the life of me I can't remember how I got here. "You think I'm sick, don't you." I don't ask.

"No, baby. I don't." She claims, sitting beside me. "Come on, sit up. I brought you some hot cocoa and cookies so we can talk." I move, hissing from the pain that swims around in my skull.

"Easy. Sorry. I forgot to mention you hit your head pretty hard when you fell." She says, sorrow in her tone. "Let me help you." She swivels around me, grabbing me from under my armpits and locks her hands on my chest, pulling me to sit up a bit. I feel my head, gently lodged in her bosom. Even the part that hurts, somehow hurts a little less.

I feel the pillow under me prop up to support me better. She slowly, gently, calmly releases me.

She sits beside me again, offering me the hot chocolate. I take the mug, holding it, but not drinking from it. "Do you want chocolate chip, or oatmeal?" She asks. I don't answer. "Devon, it's not very nice of you to not answer me." She says, soothingly, gently.

"O-oatm-meal." She nods, handing me an oatmeal cookie. I hold it, but do not bite.

"There's an officer outside." She explains seriously. "If at any point you feel threatened, just call out and he'll come running. I know you heard us talking." I nod, mostly to show I understand.

"I love you, Devon." She says, her tone sincere. "I love you with all my heart, and all I want to do is make this better for you."

I hear her. Even as I study the full mug from which I don't drink. Even as I study the oatmeal cookie from which I don't bite.

"Jen was here this afternoon. That's how I found out." I listen, but do not speak. I just breathe. Breathing is good. "She seems nice. But she was terribly concerned about me letting you out of the house on your birthday without wearing a pretty dress."

"A boy was with her. A young man, I should say. Trevor? He was mostly complaining that Jen was going to make him miss his lunch break."

She sighs. "Devon, I need to ask you something." Breathing. Just focus on breathing. "That man. He attacked you because he found out, didn't he." A tear falls, without my permission.

"I thought so." She doesn't sound happy. My breathing shallows. "I'm unhappy with him, not you. You did nothing wrong."

I'm not sure if I believe her, but I want to. I want to so badly.

"Jen says that you picked out the dress yourself." She continues, her tone even, calm. "You have the same taste in clothing I do. I'm flattered."

"…"

"I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't hear you. What did you want to tell me?"

"The d-dress… it's… p-pretty."

"It is." She agrees, nodding sagely. "But it'll get worn out too quickly if it's the only dress in your closet, don't you think?"

**_8-8_**

**_End Chapter 2_**

**_8-8_**

* * *

**_A/N: I know this is short, but I also know this is the breakpoint for many readers. And especially for transgender readers. I'm not writing for trans men, or for trans women. I am writing this for people who don't understand the true inner turmoil of those of us who live a reality like this. Don't get me wrong, no every transgender person has experiences like this, but there are some that have worse and are no longer here to tell their story. Those stories need to be told. So I'll speak for our brothers and sisters no longer able, or simply unwilling to.  
_**


	3. Tales on the wind

**_Only Way Forward_**

**_"Devon Dwyer, eldest of three. She'd recently moved to Sinnoh with her family and now seeks to start her journey with her very own Pokémon. What could possibly go wrong..."_**

**_Chapter 3 – Tales on the wind_**

**_8-8_**

* * *

Eyes closed. Listening. The wind, she speaks a tale as old as the hills. Her voice is gentle, her touch chilled. The promise of rain hangs heavy in her scent, I like that. The houses lined on the street we live, they too tell a tale. Though not a tale I care to hear. No… people's tales are better left muted.

I sit on the front porch, idly wondering if mom is being truthful with me. She says she understands. Does she? She says she accepts. Could she? Her tone was nothing but soothing and understanding. Her eyes were nothing but warm and inviting. And yet…

I breathe; sigh.

Opening my eyes, I look up at the clouds. They move lazily, white and puffy, like clouds ought to be. The sky in which they swim is tranquil, a gorgeous blue that captivates me. My hand reaches up to the sky, tries to capture a cotton candy cloud. I'm not surprised when it evades me.

She called me Devon. Not once, not by accident. Consciously, consistently. She touched me, gently, lovingly. She might not understand, I doubt she ever truly will. Yet she walks with me. She walks with me. She knows, and the smile hasn't died in her eyes when she sees me. If anything, it's grown brighter… other than the worries I see weighing on her.

I wonder at that. Is it that she's found her way behind the wall I'd erected to keep her and the world out? Is it because she's happy she got more than five words out of me? Is it because I agreed to let her brush my hair? I don't understand her at all. She seems quite happy to chatter on, peppering me with questions until she gets a proper answer. I just don't understand.

Or is it that I do understand but don't want to get my hopes up?

Shaking my head, reeling in my hand and looking at my now opened palm. Empty. I blink, wondering what I was expecting. I blink again, wondering why I'm wondering that. Looking back up, more clouds seem to have formed. How long have I been sitting here? I don't know.

"Devon, sweetie?" The door swings open behind me, but I don't look. "Did you want to give me a hand preparing dinner?" I shake my head, no. I just want to sit here. Sit here and figure out what it is that I'm missing. "Are you sure? I'm making pudding for dessert. If you help, you can pick which flavour."

Again I shake my head, no. "What are you thinking, sweetie?"

"Th-the wind…" I begin, enjoying how the wind kisses every inch of skin offered.

"Nn? What about the wind?" She presses.

"I-it'll r-rain." I offer, wondering at not being able to see her isn't freaking me out.

"Don't you want to come inside? You've been sitting there for hours." I shake my head, no. I don't want to deal with anyone right now. I don't want to hear John calling me _that name_. I don't want to help him with his dinner. I don't want to read his bedtime story. I just want to sit here. Alone. I want to figure this out. I want to understand if things will get better or worse.

Please, just… leave me alone.

"Would you mind if I sit with you for a bit, then?" She isn't going to leave me alone. Is she. Why doesn't anyone ever understand that I don't like dealing with people. People… people suck.

I shrug. It's not as if telling her no a fourth time will have any more effect than the first three. She walks over, gently, gracefully, sitting on the step beside me. "I love listening to you tucking John in at night." She tries, again, to strum up a conversation. She seems driven to tease scantly any words at all out of me. "How you recite those poems for him. It seems like that's the only time you're willing to speak."

The smell of coals being lit hangs in the air. Someone is going to start barbecuing soon. I wonder at that. I don't like barbecued food any more than any other type of cooking. Maybe it's because I've gotten so used to just shovelling it in anyway? Did I ever really enjoy barbecued food? I'm not sure.

"Why do you like walking in the rain?"

"I-it's n-nice." I say, still wondering about the whole food thing. Just what kind of food do I like eating?

"What's nice about it?" She presses, still obviously trying to get something substantial out of me. I shrug, not feeling in the mood to tell her. "I'm scared, you know." I blink. How'd we get here? Did I block out a half hour of conversation? Did I miss the exit sign on the highway of her chatter? "That when you get your first Pokémon, you're going to run off into the sunset and never come home again."

Hnn… that does sound eerily similar to my plan. "That's your plan. To leave and never come back. Isn't it?" It was. And now that the clear cut balance between good and evil has shifted, you force me to rethink it all. _Thanks_ for that…

I shrug, unsure I want to put any of my thoughts into words. I don't want to get her hopes up, only to dash them like a sandcastle swept away by the incoming tide. I want to know, to have certainty. This… upheaval, no matter how welcomed, tosses all I've known into disarray. "Is there something I can do to show you that you'll always be welcome in our home?" I blink, wondering about that.

"I d-don't kn-know." I admit, wondering at the tears stinging in my eyes. Why does admitting that hurt so much? Is it because I see she might just be genuine in her love for me? That 'unconditional love' really is a thing? Arceus, when the world was a cesspool of hate and despair, at least I could make sense of it. What am I supposed to think now? What am I supposed to believe?

I feel her hand on my cheek, her touch gentle. Her thumb wipes away the tear that fled. "Does that scare you? Not knowing?" I nod, barely perceptible. Another tear flees, jumping down into her welcoming touch. Emotions well up within me. Good emotions, bad emotions. Everything feels like too much. It's… it's just all too much for me.

If the world is a horrible place, that's fine. It's not nice, but if it's a fact, I can learn to cope with it. The easiest thing, then, is to avoid people and be happy all by myself. But what happens if there are only some bad people? If I have to figure out who's nice and who's not? Then I have to trust people enough to get to know them. That's scary. I mean, how many broken bones can one survive before one's body gives out?

Her arms find their way around me. Her embrace is every bit as warm, as soothing, as I remember it being. I sigh, feeling the first crack in the dam holding back my tears. "It's alright to cry when it gets too much, you know." She claims. I'm not sure I believe her. I'm not even sure I want to believe her.

All I know is that… for now… I don't feel quite so much the outsider.

**_8-8_**

* * *

Mom is… determined. There's no other word for it. She somehow got me to help her prepare dinner. She somehow got me to help John eat. She somehow got me to change Julie. And now?

"Sweetie, it isn't fair if I only ask you to help around the house and with John and Julie. So I'm thinking that maybe tonight we should have a girls' night. Maybe watch a movie, make some smoothies, some girl-talk?" I think about that. It has been a long time since we've done anything together. "You can either pick the smoothies we make, or you can pick the movie. What's it going to be?"

"B-banana… and c-cranberry?" I look away from her, blushing. I really don't care what we watch, I'm likely to fall asleep halfway through it anyway. I don't think I've seen the end of very many movies.

"Not my usual combination. But alright. Did you want vanilla yoghurt to go with that or plain?" She asks, already tugging me in the direction of the kitchen. I find myself looking down, wondering at the feeling of the hem of my sundress grazing against my bare skin as I walk. I'm… not exactly used to wearing dresses, after all.

"P-plain."

She lets me pick out a banana –saying that we'd only need one between us– while she gets the cranberries and yogurt. She washes the cranberries in a colander and I peel the banana – not very challenging. I'm really picky with those little stringy things though, so it takes a while to make sure the banana meets my requirements.

Once we're both satisfied, the ingredients go into the blender and mom lets me turn it on. I wonder at how the colours swirl, at how three separate ingredients suddenly turn into one. When I'm satisfied it's all blended, I turn to mom. She's just… standing there, beside me. A warm smile on her face, in her eyes. I find myself smiling back.

I grab the glasses –the fancy ones we usually only use for guests– and she pours. It's… it's nice. Doing this with her, spending time with her…

**_8-8_**

* * *

We end up watching the Smurfs. Mom has a thing for these movies, for some reason. I don't mind, I kind of enjoy it. She keeps offering little knickknacks here and there. The lead actor being gay – I didn't know that. How mom used to look at the Smurfs cartoon when she was growing up, back when cartoons were only shown on Saturday mornings – I can even imagine how much that must suck.

Eventually I find myself asking things. Like what she misses most, growing up – pizza and junk food, mostly. Like what she liked doing – running around in her grandmother's back yard. Like who her friends were – she didn't keep a lot of friends, mostly it was her and auntie Devon. "Why don't you like talking about auntie?"

She sighs. "Because I'm still not over it." I look up, not quite remembering when I decided to lay my head in mom's lap – but not complaining that she's been scratching my hair ever since. "She got into a lot of fights with your grandparents, because she was never into boys. And I mean, in the worst way. Most nights she'd cry herself to sleep in my arms because of it. Your grandma kept telling her it was a phase, but by the time she turned eighteen? She fell in love with an old friend of hers… a girlfriend of hers."

I did NOT know that. "What happened?" I ask.

She sighs again, worn out. "Your grandpa refused to accept it, your grandma was even worse. They kept haggling her and Louise, her girlfriend. Eventually they ended up breaking up because Louise just couldn't cope anymore. It b-broke her heart…" That last comes out… broken, teary. "I'm the o…one that f-found her." I sit up quickly, wrapping my arms around her. She's quick to do the same… and we cry. We cry together.

"I-is th-that why…?" I manage through my sobs.

"Why I accept you?" I nod. "I… I don't know, baby. I'd like to think I would have accepted you anyway, but… seeing how deeply not being accepted cuts?" She holds me closer to her, tighter. She kisses me over and over and over again. "I swore I'd never make that mistake."

**_8-8_**

* * *

We spend the rest of the night talking. Even after the movie ends. Just… talking. About anything, nothing, and everything in between. I tell her how much fun I had at with Jen, both at the Daycare and shopping after. She tells me how she can't even remember the last time she truly went on a shopping expedition. She tells me about her finding the officer kind of cute, but I didn't see him so I don't have a lot to add. That actor, though… yeah, he's a cutie.

"What do you like about him?" She asks, a smile in her tone.

"I dunno." I shrug, loving the way she's once again scratching my scalp. "He's just… approachable, you know? Like someone you'd meet at the supermarket and can just strum up a conversation with."

"Hmm? What about that new James Bond actor?" She wonders.

"Not my type. I'll take quiet and bookish any day of the week." I wave it off. "I'd rather have someone that would enjoy a quiet evening at home."

"Same." She says, smiling. "Say…" She gets a funny look in her eyes. "Would… you find it weird if I said I might be interested in dating a woman?"

"No." I don't even think about it. "Just because I don't like broccoli doesn't mean you can't eat it."

She's a little teary again. "Really?"

"Mom, as long as they make you happy? I'm fine with it. Boy, girl… just no Pokémon… that'd be a bit weird." I tell her honestly.

She laughs. "Alright, deal. No Pokémon." She's still laughing.

"Mo~ooom."

"What? That's funny and you know it." I roll my eyes. "Oh, no! The dreaded eye roll! Devon, how could you?" She's just being dramatic now. Putting her hand against her forehead and acting faint.

"Ha, ha." I intone, grabbing her hand and putting back on my head.

"Excuse me, young lady. Aren't we getting a bit spoiled?" She sounds amused.

"Yes." I agree. I just don't care. "Tell me about her?" She stiffens. "You didn't ask for no reason."

She sighs, scratching my head again. "She's an old college friend of mine. She moved to Veilstone city some years back, and we… kind of never lost touch."

"Ah… the one you keep sneaking calls to." I say, smirking. Her eyes bug out a bit, and her hand freezes. Obviously she didn't expect I'd notice. "What's she like?"

"… Hmm. She's… quiet. Bookish. A bit of a geek, really. She works at a bookstore, and she rather enjoys it. She loves to cook, but would probably die without a dishwasher. She's into Psychic Type Pokémon and quite proud of it. She… she has an infectious laugh. And the way her eyes just light up… and that smile. Arceus, I used to tell her the weirdest things just to get her to smile."

"You're in love with her." I don't ask. It's kind of obvious. She sighs, dreamily. "You should tell her."

"She knows." She looks away.

"Does she feel the same?" I ask, worried.

"She… she doesn't think she could ever live in a small town like this."

"That's not what I'm asking." I point out. "Is she in love with you?"

She sighs. "It doesn't matter, baby. We-"

"Mom?" I cut her off. It's rude, I know. But… "Please, trust me enough to tell me."

Tears start to fall. "Yes, Devon. She's been in love with me since we met."

"Then what's stopping you?" She sighs, tired and worn out. This is… an old fear. I know them well. "Us?"

"Of course not. She love kids." She sounds almost insulted.

"Well, what then?" I press.

"I'm…" Fear. She's afraid.

"Scared?" Tears fall. "Of what?"

"I dunno. What if she isn't the person I remember? What if you guys don't get along? What if her parents hate me? What if…"

"What if you spend time with her and find out?" I challenge. That brings her up short. "Veilstone isn't too far away? We could go shopping? Spend some time with her? Get to know her?"

"Baby, you'd go crazy in a big city. You almost did."

"'Jake' almost did. And it had nothing to do with the city. I was going crazy here too, you know." She blinks, surprised. "Do you want to find out if you two mesh?"

"… Baby are you… suggesting what I…?"

"I need clothes. Big cities have discount stores." I point out. "And your daughter isn't happy about this lack of scalp scratching." She laughs a little, biting her lip as she starts scratching my scalp again.

"I… I'll talk to her about it."

I nod. "You should."

**_8-8_**

* * *

The next morning, I find myself back in shorts and a regular t-shirt. I don't mind too much; they're comfy. Besides, I can't exactly wear the same dress over and over and over again. That's just too gross for words!

I help mom make breakfast, then start setting the table without her having to ask. John's being a bit boisterous, as usual, but he isn't picking on Julie, so it's fine. "Good morning." I kiss them both, making sure to muss John's hair a little.

"Mowning, Devon." John beams at me. I beam right back, kissing his cheek. "What's fo' bweakfast?"

"Shh." I shush him with my finger over my lips for emphasis. I look right, then left, acting like I'm about to tell him a secret. "Pancakes."

"Weally!" He loves pancakes.

"Really." I nod sagely. "But mom said that if you're mean to Julie, then I can have one your pancakes."

"Devon, I heard that." Mom calls from the kitchen, a smile in her voice to show she's amused.

"I got in trouble. I guess that means you get another pancake, then huh." I tease. He nods sagely, his short black hair swishing about as he does. He's such a little cutie. His little owlish, grey eyes study me, almost like he's trying to make sense of something. "We should be eating soon. Play nice, okay?" I kiss him again, wondering what's on his mind.

Going back into the kitchen, I see mom whipping the batter, shaking her head in amusement as I enter. "You did that on purpose." She doesn't ask. I shrug, not caring to get into it. John loves pancakes more than I do. I won't mind if he gets one more than me, and this way he knows to behave. "I can't remember, did you like blueberries in yours?"

"Uh uh. Just syrup." I grab the maple syrup from the fridge and a carton of milk. "John likes his with either blueberries of strawberries though."

"You've been talking more." She points out, smiling. Hmm? I guess I have. "You… trust me a little more?"

"Maybe." I say, smiling. "Did you want tea, or is milk okay for you?"

"Tea would be nice."

"Alright." I nod, bringing the milk and syrup to the table. Once they're set, and I'm sure John is enjoying his cartoons enough to not go touching everything, I go back to the kitchen. I grab the water cooker out of its base, fill it with water and set it back. I'll put it to boil once the pancakes are ready so it'll still be hot. "Ooh, did you want a drab Earl Grey, or should I being the assorted tea box?"

"Is something wrong with Earl Grey?" She asks, turning to me so I can see the raised eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a drab Early Grey for you." I tease, smiling and biting my lip a little to keep myself from laughing. "I like your dress by the way." Sure, it's just a simple house dress. But I love how it hugs her curves, how the red and orange intertwine, almost as if she's ready to go out dancing in it.

"Why thank you, sweetie. I haven't worn it in ages." She strikes a pose, obviously showing off a little. "What do you think? Still sexy?"

I giggle a little, enjoying this with all my heart. "Was there ever a doubt?" I open the cupboard where we keeps the teas, and grab the Earl Grey for her – I'll never understand what she likes about it. "Cream and sugar, right?"

"Of course." I nod grabbing them and bring them out to the table as well. Let's see. Plates, forks and knives –you don't eat pancakes with chopsticks, that's just weird– cup for John, teacups for mom and me, sugar, cream, Earl Grey for mom, mango for me, teaspoons, maple syrup for the pancakes…

"Mom, what are we missing?" I ask, wondering about that myself. Something's… just missing.

"Did you check the napkins?" Yes. "Extra saucer for the teabags?" Ah! That's it!

**_8-8_**

* * *

After a very enjoyable breakfast, I help mom wash the dishes and I head out. It's still very much summer, so school's out. So I wander about for a bit, shying away from the friendly faces that wave to me. I might be getting better at talking with mom, but… that's mom! Even Jen… sort of. But perfect strangers? No. That's just too much.

As usual, I find myself on the fence to the Pokémon Daycare. I find myself smiling as I recite the names of the Pokémon I now know. An Eevee here, a Ditto there. That Gyarados is still being mean to the others, sloshing about angrily for some reason. She even slaps one of the… of the… ooh… gotta think… Palpitoads(?) out of the water. It croaks angrily, but just walks off, not in the mood to deal with her anymore.

Some of the Pokémon from the other day are missing. I guess the owner came for them. I briefly wonder what it would be like, to have a Pokémon. But… I find myself no longer in a rush to get one. I… I don't need to leave now, do I? I… I like being with mom. I like seeing her smile. I… Arceus, I've needed this so badly.

"Is that I smile I see? On our cute little Devon no less?" I bite my lip to try mask my smile, turning to Jen. She's in her nurse's uniform, so I'm guessing she's here for her rounds.

"Gyarados was being mean to Palpitoad." I tattle, trying to draw her attention away from me.

"Smiling and talking. My, my. I seem to have caught you on a good day." She sounds amused. "Care to join me for my rounds again?"

"Good morning, by the way." I grin, enjoying that I she's so casual. For some reason. I… I dunno. I just feel… lighter. Like things aren't quite as bad as I feared they might be. I quite enjoy it.

"Oh me, oh my. Poor bedside manner." She shakes her head dramatically, smiling the whole time – even with her eyes. "Good morning, Devon. I can't believe you're out dressed like that again."

"It's comfy." I defend, shrugging to show I don't really care what she thinks.

"It's boyish. Really, I'm tempted to drag you out shopping again, to correct your fashion sense." I think she enjoys shopping. Though it's hard to tell, she's naturally a talkative person.

"Mom would agree with you." I say, smiling. "You came by the house?"

"Yeah… she seemed quite shocked about your taste in dresses." She says, smiling a little. "From how you normally dress, I can't say I'm too surprised."

"She's been begging me to wear it around the house." I say, thinking about that. "But it's the only one I own, so…"

"So she's going to drag you shopping?" She almost sounds hopeful.

I roll my eyes. "Sounds that way. She said something about calling an old friend of hers for backup." Jen giggles at how dryly I say that. I turn back to the Pokémon, wondering about them once again.

"I'll be sure to offer my services, just in case." She teases playfully. I roll my eyes, knowing she really would. "I have a surprise for you." I blink, turning to her with questions in my eyes. "But you're going to have to come with me if you want to find out what."

"Manipulation is a thing with you." I snipe. She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes twinkling with delight. "Alright, alright. I have to be home for lunch though."

"Hmm? Is your mom trying to turn our cute little tomboy into a lady?" She teases again. I roll my eyes. "That's a yes."

**_8-8_**

* * *

I don't interact too much with the Pokemon –I didn't last time either– but I listen as Jen talks about this and that. Care for them, food types, sweet, spicy, sour… that sort of thing. I mostly watch, though. As she guides me into the barn, where the younger Pokémon are kept, and where a small(ish) tub is set up on a little table. I watch as she shows me how she bathes them, grooms them, checks them for anything out of the ordinary. I listen how she talks to them, the reaction she gets from them. Over and over, different Types, different Species, different Evolutions of a Species.

It's fascinating.

Then, the last one to bathe. A feline, but not one I know very well. Or at all really. Bipedal, grey fur with cream smocks almost on its paws and ears. Ears tucked down, for some reason. Is it scare? Nervous?

"This is Espurr. She's only just hatched." Jen explains. "She's a bit shy, but that's pretty normal because she's so young." I nod, to show I'm following her. Espurr's eyes are a bit owlish, like John's. Only hers are lilac with dark purple irises. She's looks a little scruffy, but in a cute sort of way. "Things to pay attention to. Her ears are supposed to be turned down, because of two organs that contain her Psychic power. Felines aren't especially fond of water, but if it's warm enough they don't mind too much." I nod, taking it all in as best I can. "Come on, show me what you can do."

I smile a little, wondering at her nonchalance. "Hey there, Espurr. I'm Devon." I introduce myself, checking the temperature of the water. John hates cold baths, too. And so do I, so it's not like I'm in any position to blame either of them. "Do you feel like a nice warm bath?"

She tilts her head to one side, seemingly thinking about that. "You can check for yourself. It's really nice. Come on, it's alright."

"Purr?" She eyes the bath, then turns back and gazes at me again.

I squat down, so that I'm eye level with her. I hold my hands out for her. "Come on, I'm sure you'll love it." I say, smiling at her. She doesn't look too sure, but she doesn't look scared either. "It's okay, take your time. You know, you're about the same size as my little sister Julie. You've got a lot of growing to do, don't you."

She takes a step towards me, still unsure. "It's alright. Nice and easy. Nothing wrong with being cautious with me. It's alright, Espurr." I soothe. She takes another step towards me, then another. And another. She's well within my reach now, but I think grabbing her will freak her out a bit. So I wait. "See, nothing bad's going to happen. Everything's just fine."

"Es? Espurr." She raises her stubby little paws up for me, so I scoop her up, holding her like I would John.

"There. See? Nothing's the matter." I pet her hair, smoothing it gently. "Aren't you just the cutest little Espurr ever."

She smiles. "Espurr!" Her eyes are closed, her lips curled up, and her little paws are excitedly patting my chest. "Es espurr!"

"I'm glad you agree with me." I coo, the biggest grin on my face I've ever had. "Should we try the water? See if it's warm enough?"

She thinks about that. "Purr espurr es." She nods a few times. So I stand up with her and we turn to the tub. I lean in a little, sticking my own hand into the water to check it again, just to be sure. She tries reaching in, but she can't. Her limbs are too short.

"Hold on, let me scoop out a bit for you. Otherwise you might fall in." I offer, scooping up some water for her with my free hand. She careful sticks a paw into my cupped hand, testing the water.

"Purr." She nods, obviously approving.

"Alright then, willing to let me put you in the tub?" I ask. John was always a fussy one when it came to this. She nods. I slowly ease her into the tub, letting her dip her hind paws first, checking her reaction –still nothing to show she doesn't like it – so I ease her into the tub.

She starts to purr. Just purring. Then she starts splashing a bit, obviously enjoying the water. I laugh, knowing that feeling all too well. I carefully scoop up some water onto her back and the back of her head, trying to show her it's alright. She doesn't even care. She's splashing about getting us both completely soaked.

I grab the bottle of shampoo, squeezing some into my hand and carefully massaging it into her fur. I start with her back. Then her limbs, her tummy, her head. I'm careful to keep it away from her face though. I don't want to risk it getting into her eyes or mouth.

Once I'm satisfied she's properly sudsy, I start the pour water over her to wash it all out. I ask her to tilt back her head, so that I don't get any water on her face – John's pet peeve. It isn't long before I have her fur clean. But she's still very much enjoying the water.

"Are you enjoying it?" I ask her.

"Purr!" She smiles. That's a definite yes.

"I knew you would." I smile right back. "You ready to come out? Or did you want to splash around a bit more?" She raises her paws for me to pick her up – after one or two more splashes, just because she can. I grab the towel and carefully grab her with it to not get myself completely soaked.

Once she's out and safely in my arms, I start drying her off. She's still dripping wet, of course, but that isn't unexpected. It takes almost ten minutes, and she still shakes off even more water when I put her down, but soon she's ready for grooming. So I grab the brush and help her look less of a mess. She seems to be naturally scraggly, because no matter how much I brush her, she still looks the same. Still, her fur shines a bit now. So it isn't for nought.

"So, what do you think, Espurr. Are you gorgeous?" I tease playfully. She rubs the back of her head with her paw, seemingly embarrassed by that. "Aww, come on. You know you're a cutie. No shame in it." If I didn't know any better, I'd think she's blushing. She's smiling, so I know she's pleased.

"Well, Devon. I think that proves everything I need to know." I blink, turning to Jen. I'd completely forgotten she was even here. "The egg I promised you. Espurr came out of it. She's yours, if you want her."

I cover my mouth and nose with my hands, shocked. "Oh, Arceus. Seriously?" I start tearing up. "Jen, please tell me your serious."

"Very. I think you'd take excellent care of Espurr. And she trusts you, that's the biggest hurdle right there." She says, nodding sagely at her own words.

I turn to Espurr, tears in my eyes. "What do you think, Espurr? Do you want to come with me?"

"Purr! Espurr es!" She's nodding and crying a little. She then runs to me, her paws held up for me to scoop her up again. Who am I to deny such a cutie?

**_8-8_**

**_End Chapter 3_**

**_8-8_**

* * *

**_A/N: Far less ang_****_s_****_ty, far less anxious (in my opinion). But all very much needed.  
_**


	4. A legend is borne

_**Only Way Forward**_

_**"Devon Dwyer, eldest of three. She'd recently moved to Sinnoh with her family and now seeks to start her journey with her very own Pokémon. What could possibly go wrong..."**_

_**Chapter 4 - A legend is borne  
**_

_**8-8**_

* * *

It almost feels like my head is spinning. I never thought there would be so many things to arrange, to know. Naturally, with my current partner in crime being a nurse, I'm brought to the Daycare and introduced to the world of trainers. Well and truly introduced.

Baby formula. Bottles. Sterilizing equipment. Nappies. A bag for berries, though I'm carefully explained not to offer Espurr any berries until Jen gives me the greenlight. I'm also handed a book to track all appointments for Espurr – including a growth chart for weight, height, and other measurements.

I find out that Espurr is quite small, even for her age. Jen is quick to point out that there's always a 'runt' in a litter, and that's probably why the trainer abandoned the egg? Not sure how I feel about that, but anger is definitely in the mix.

I'm given a book on caring for Pokemon – a general one, but I'm explained where to find the chapter on baby Pokemon. Another book on caring for Psychic Type Pokemon, again the chapter on babies is pointed out. And a third on caring for Espurrs – this one thankfully thinner than the other two. I'm also given five Pokeballs, along with a basic explanation on how they work – one press does this, one turn does that… I may have stopped listening at some point, so I'm given a book instead. As well, and not entirely unimportant, I'm also given a Pokedex.

My own Pokedex. A pink and red one – not sure how I feel about that. Not that I feel any way about pink, but it's always just been another colour to me. Jen even shows me how to register people's numbers by using hers as an example.

She calls me to show me it works. The tune that gets played, though…some kind of weird buzzing-beeping sound… that's getting changed. Jen also takes her time to explain the emergency numbers – police, Daycare, ambulance, Rangers, the works. She leaves nothing up to chance.

As if that isn't enough, she drags me out to the field, out into the wild. She shows me how to catch a wild Pokemon. All the while, Espurr is coming with me. She doesn't seem to like being too far from me, shyly clinging to my leg whenever she doesn't trust the situation. Not that I blame her. I'm just happy she trusts me enough to come to me when she gets nervous.

With another busy morning behind me, I head home with Espurr sleeping in my arms. Poor thing is all tuckered out from running around. Not that I blame her. I feel like taking a nice long nap myself.

I wave to Jen, thanking her for everything, then bring the sleepy little tyke into the house and up into my room. I lay her on my bed, so I can get down to business. The first thing I do, logically, is read up on Espurrs – though it mostly explains details about when they're already full-grown.

It's interesting – especially the bits about sexual dimorphism, and the differences I can expect because of Espurr's sex. But it doesn't really explain what Espurr needs now. So instead I open the book on Psychic Types, already flipping to the chapter on babies.

Hmm.

Bitter flavours are typically more popular with Psychic types, though the author carefully points out that exceptions happen. Berries types and flavours? Interesting, but not something I need for now. Hmm. Ah! Healthy nursing habits… Every two to three hours, even in the middle of the night. Well, Julie isn't much different, so I think I can handle that. I need to monitor her eating and pooping habits. Again, nothing new.

Hmm, housebreaking. _It's better not to do the newspapers thing_? There's a newspapers thing? _Psychic Types are far more intellectual beings, who are therefore far more likely to see this treatment as insulting and degrading_? Well, that makes sense. I mean, I wouldn't feel any different if anyone wanted me to pee on newspapers!

Hmm. _Potty training is preferable, some willing to start as young as six weeks._ Interesting. I remember Jen saying that Espurr is a week old, so that will come. _Until then, nappies are highly recommended. And be wary what you think around Psychic Types_? Ah, _they have a tendency to read their trainer's thoughts, whether they (the Pokemon) want to or not. It's also advisable to be mindful of odd thoughts and urges while around young Psychic Types, they might unwittingly transfer their thoughts and/or urges onto their trainer – though it isn't very common once they learn to control their powers._ That's a bit unnerving, but it's part of the package.

Let's see, what else do I need to know…?

_**8-8**_

* * *

"Jake!" I cringe, silently praying that name could just be erased from everyone's memory. "Could you come give me a hand?"

I make my way out of my room, picking up Espurr at the top of the stairs so she doesn't get tempted to try her luck – she's quick to want to walk on her own, once we're downstairs, but I still have to be careful with her habit of hiding between my legs.

Mom is in the living room, breastfeeding Julie, while John is throwing a tantrum – apparently, he doesn't understand why Julie can breastfeed, but he can't.

"Sweetie, would you mind helping your brother with his snack?" mom asks, obviously not even noticing the slip-up. Or the Pokemon shyly clinging to my leg. I nod, beckoning to John to come with me.

"But mo~oooooommy~yyyyyyyy!" John complains, obviously still upset about something.

"Now, now, little man. Don't you want your snack?" I ask, trying to distract him. I pick up the apple, wondering why mom didn't call me earlier. Then again, maybe I should try helping out so she doesn't get so frustrated, as she obviously is. "Do you want strawberry milk?"

"Tank you, Jake!" he enthuses, beaming. I sigh. And things were going so well, too.

**8-8**

* * *

"Jake?"

"Jake!"

"JAKE?!"

Over, and over. And over. That name. Always that name. I try being pre-emptive, helping mom before she calls for me. I try correcting her, but she's so frustrated from dealing with John, who seems intent on driving her up a wall today that she brushes me off each time – or he's starting to get jealous that Julie gets so much of her attention… which wouldn't be the first time. Though, honestly, it could also be because he sees me with Espurr more often than not today… it's possible that he sees what little attention he currently gets being divided once again, and he might not like that.

That doesn't excuse everyone calling me **that** name! Or anyone, for that matter.

After four hours of putting up with it, I decide to take Espurr into my room, claiming it's because of her nap. Though it's also true, it's barely half the story.

I take my time feeding her, smiling as warmly as I can. I make sure to burp her – just as I used to with John when he was on formula. I don't know if it's needed –the book didn't say anything about it– but I'd rather be overly cautious, just in case. And she really does burp, so I assume she needed it.

Once she's done, I clean her with a damp cloth and carefully lay her on my pillow, letting her sniff and pad it with her paws, and study her as she murmurs her name over and over, softer each time. Soon, her light snores are all I hear.

With everything handled, I plop onto the floor in the middle of my room.

And I cry.

Tears of frustration, of betrayal. I know, I understand. Mom was just busy, overwhelmed with everything that was going on. It's not that she wanted to hurt me, or that she was going out of her way to be callous. Life is just asking more from her than she has to offer. I understand, I know…

It doesn't hurt less. It doesn't feel like any less of a slap in my face. Knowing that she knows. That she truly knows how much _that name_ hurts me. It just… it hurts.

Things were going so well. Everything seemed so perfect. For once in my life, I didn't feel like a stranger in my own skin…

I… I thought I could finally breathe.

Was it just an illusion? A delayed side effect from the concussion, maybe? I… I don't understand. Am I deluding myself? Can I truly be myself here?

No. Devon, stop it. Mom loves me. She truly loves me, as I am. Not just as I present myself to be. I… I need to talk to her, to help her to understand what I'm going through. To remind her, to give her a chance…

I… My poor little Espurr doesn't deserve a life on the run… I will if I have to… but I… no. Mom's shown me that I don't… that I _shouldn't_ have to.

…

Yeah, I'll talk to her later, after we've both had a chance to catch our breath.

_**8-8**_

* * *

Sitting down to the table, I find myself helping John – per the norm, these days. After he's eaten, I make Espurr's bottle and feed her. The whole time I find myself wondering at mom's not so subtle frown. She's busy breastfeeding Julie, holding her just as carefully as she ever would. Yet, she just seems out of it, upset almost. Why?

Is… is she finally realizing that…

No, Devon. Stop it.

Then again, maybe she was just trying to play nice with me to get me to stay and help with John and Julie… Yeah, that must be it. Well… if that's the way it is, fine. It's not ideal, but… well, it could be worse.

Once Espurr's had her fill, I burp her and sit her in John's old highchair to keep her out of trouble. Then I take her bottle and John's plate into the kitchen and wash them, dry them, and set them in their proper place. I make my way back to the table, and start methodically working in my own dinner.

"Wha'ssa madder, Jake?" I flinch at John's innocent question – or, more accurately, the name. I don't turn to him, nor do I bother check if he's making an utter mess of his dessert, his face, or anything.

"N-nothing," I say, taking another bite. I wait, wondering if I should bother correcting him for the thousandth time today, or if mom will actually say –or do– something, anything.

Nothing comes.

"Es espurr!" Espurr announces, slapping her paws on the tabletop in front of her. She's frowning about something, but I don't really know why. I smile at her, hoping to get her to smile a little, or to assure her that I'm okay, if that's what has her worried. Her little owlish eyes study me, but she doesn't seem to like what she sees.

Taking the last bite I can stomach, I pick up my plate and bring it into the kitchen and deal with that. I throw away the last of my food, as usual. I wash my plate and chopsticks, putting them away.

With nothing else to do, I head back to the table and clean up John. I turn on the tv, knowing he still has about a half hour before bathtime, and bedtime not long after.

A wet, squishy farting sound comes from Julie – no doubt her bowels announcing how happy they are her belly's full. I sigh, knowing exactly what that means.

Without even waiting for the request, I head upstairs to get Julie's things. I set them on the table for mom, and I grab Espurr, lifting her up out of the highchair. With that, I head upstairs without a word.

_**8-8**_

* * *

**Knock, Knock.**

"Can I come in, sweetie?" I hear mom from the other side of the door. I noise, unsure if I'm ready to talk to her just yet. I don't look up from Espurr, wanting nothing more than to see the sweet innocence of her sleeping form. I hear the door slide open, I see mom entering from the corner of my eye. As much as I don't want to, I see the troubled look in her eyes, the unshed tears.

I sigh. "Y-yes?" She winces, I sigh again.

"..." I see her working her mouth, though not a word comes out. "I... I'm sorry," she manages, her emotional turmoil obvious in her tone.

"I-it's f-fine," I mutter. It isn't fine. It hasn't been fine. It seems she understands that.

Silence drags on. I smooth Espurr's fur, slowly, methodically massaging her to both help her sleep and -more importantly- calm me down. One seems to be working, the other is... a work in progress.

She takes a shaky step towards me, her hesitation obvious. "D-devon?" she tries. A tear steals down my cheek, quickly joined by a second. She sits on the edge of my bed, near Espurr's feet. Her hand gentle caresses my cheek, wiping my tears away.

"I... I'm so sorry, baby. I-I... I..." As halting as her words come, it's the jerkiness in her touch that shows me how emotional she is.

I peek up at her, looking her in the eye for a fraction of a second. I don't know why. I don't want to see her hurting. I don't want to see her crying.

And I certainly don't want to let her off the hook. She's the one screwing up. She's the one making John question which name to call me. Her being busy and frustrated doesn't excuse that!

And yet, from that peek, our eyes meet. I see her silently promising to do better. I see how grateful she is that I still help her through it all.

Or am I just imagining it? Am I projecting my desires onto her attempt at manipulating me?

_**8-8**_

* * *

Don't look, Devon. Don't look. Just don't. Don't do that to yourself.

**01:59 AM**

CRAP! I told you not to look!

The sound of Espurr crying doesn't lessen, nor does her grip on my pyjama shirt. She's upset, morally outraged, that she isn't being fed, that I'm not going at lightspeed to fix her formula. And...

**sniff sniff**

A dirty nappy on top of that.

With great dubiety, I get out of be-

**Thud!**

Well, I'm out of bed. And Espurr is crying even harder now, probably being freaked out that we just fell. I study her cry with half an ear... Nope. No fear or pain. Just surprise. Thank Arceus I'd gotten used to the different types of baby's cries with my siblings.

It takes considerable effort, but I get myself and Espurr off the floor, through the door and down the stairs. I really need to get a thermos in my room for night feedings.

With a practised ease, I set Espurr in the high chair and get to making her formula. It sucks for her, but this way I wake up somewhat so I can change her without screwing it up for both of us.

I put on the water boiler... thing... I grab the bottle and the little tub with pre-meassured formula... powder...

My head gets heavy, lolling to one side and shaking me awake! I shake myself, slapping my cheeks to wake me up before I fall asleep standing up. Deciding not to chance it, I fetch Espurr's things to change her.

I get back into the kitchen, still hearing poor Espurr crying and murmuring and muttering unhappily in her highchair, just in time for the water to finish boiling. I place Espurr's things on the counter, getting down to the most crucial part: measuring.

Thirty cc hot. Fifty cc cool. Flap open tub section... flip over, tap tap tap, shimmy last bit. Close tub thingy. Twist on nipple, grab, shake shake shake. Test on skin... not too hot, thankfully.

I walk with the bottle to Espurr and scoop her out of the highchair. She grabs the bottle, already sucking in the nipple and gorging on her meal. She's still squirming unhappily, so I know the nappy bothers her. Best to head upstairs to get her things then.

So with a squirming Espurr in hand, balancing her and the bottle she's still not very good at holding herself, I head up the stairs. With her refusal to stay still, and me being drunk on sleep - a precarious endeavour, to be sure.

And yet, when I get upstairs... "Where did I...?" Where are her things? I know I had them here! I always keep her things here on my desk, so I know where to find them!

Obviously it isn't here. Maybe I left them on the dining room table?

Back downstairs, into the dining room. On the table? No. On her highchair? No. Couch? No. Tv stand? No. Hmm...? Kit...chen... I left them on the counter, didn't I...

I head back into the kitchen, finding everything next to the water boiler. Right where I left them. To early to care. And judging by the annoyed grunts and noises, bottle's empty. Perfect timing.

I flop the little foldy thingy open, gently putting Espurr on it, and fumble in the dark to find the sticky thingies that keep her nappy closed.

**FLASH!**

"Nn!" I complain, wondering at the sudden brightness of the room, even as I furrow my brow and squint to see what the hell is going on. Espurr decides she doesn't like the goings-on, and bawls to announce her opinion. "Ohh, ooh, ohh, ooh. There there, Essie. Itzokay." I sooth. Even though my eyes are slapping my brain with too much light and information, it's her reaction that hurts.

"You'll never know if she's clean without light," mom chastises. I shrug, opening the nappy and start clawing away at the sludge stuck to Espurr's fur. Thankfully I remember to use the wipes... and I'm not butchering my baby. I don't think so, at least. Well, she's not crying in pain... so we're doing just fine.

With the last of the gook and goo cleaned out, I put on a fresh nappy and fold and flap everything into its right place. I carefully get the sticky thing stuck to the right place, and check to see everything is done right - wouldn't want my baby to be in pain because my brain is still asleep.

"You've gotten in a lot of practice with that," she says. I look at her, still squinting because I don't like the brightness I'm bathed in. Unsure what to make of her words, I shrug and carefully pick Espurr up and letting her bury her nose in the nape of my neck. I grab nappy, trying to make sure I don't make a mess - cleaning it up now will suck, but leaving it 'till morning would be worse.

Into the babyroom at then end of the hall, I dump the nappy and twist the thing to make sure the bag is twisted closed so we don't have to smell like we have babies in the house - the bad scents of it.

"A'right, Essie... bag to bed with you," I murmur, trudging back up the stairs. The light snores tell me I'm the one that needs to be put to bed - she's WAY ahead of me.

_**8-8**_

* * *

**PING-PO~ONG! "Hyaaaa!"**

I look towards the front door, wondering why mom ever had that stupid bell installed. Still, bills need to be paid, I guess. And t least there's two doorbells so we know 'normal guests' won't be using that junk. I mean that corny, retro 'hyaa'? It sounds like a guy is taking a crap while constipated.

Not missing a beat, mom heads into her office to get her Pokeballs. I focus on John and Julie as they watch that funny little collection of scribbles in the cartoon yammer on about something I don't think I'm capable of making sense of.

"I'mma wootin' fo' you, mommy!" John announces, pumping his fist up in the air. I turn, finding mom there, blowing him a kiss as she continues towards the door.

I hate being around the house during the day. Everyone that comes here is just another challenger. Soon the battlecries will fill the air, the sounds of fighting will drown out reality.

"Let's do this! Go, Roserade!" Well, this was fun. I get up, grab Espurr, and head out. I make sure to close the front door properly, so John won't get tempted to leave.

There's nothing to do in this town. No parks, nowhere to just hang out. Nowhere to go that won't cost me money I don't have. So I decide on my usual destination: the Daycare.

As usual, friendly faces offer their 'Howdy!', and get ignored. The more daring of them see me cross the road to avoid them. A few kids my age cry out 'scruffy' and make disparaging comments about the little cutie with me. Between the seeming dislike of Espurr, me actively avoiding them, and Espurr hiding behind my leg, almost no one is curious enough to approach us. Nothing new there.

I find myself suddenly overly aware of Espurr's reaction to everything. How she enjoys running up to certain flowers to sniff them, usually ending in her sneezing for one reason or another. I make a mental note to ask Jen about that - it could be an allergy! How she enjoys chasing her shadow, though I notice she keeps looking around to see where I am. I'm grateful she keeps track of where I am, so she won't be running off without me.

How she shies away from any and everyone. She only seems to like being around me. Not that I'm all that surprised, really. I mean, she's shy, and too young to have to deal with people she doesn't know.

We make it to the Daycare, so I scoop Espurr up, and climb up the fence. I carefully set her on the rail and hold her with one hand so she doesn't fall and hurt herself. With my other hand, I hold on so I don't fall.

And together, we just gaze at the Pokemon. "That's Gyarados," I say, pointing at the big meanie picking a fight again. "And that's Palpitoad."

"Es? Espurr!" she points at one of them, sitting in the corner by themself. I look, but I don't recognize that one at all. It's green, with patches of white. And these big, bright red eyes and what looks like a tutu.

"I'm not sure which one that is," I admit. "We can ask Jen when we see her though. Will you remind me?"

"Es purr!" she declares, nodding.

"Alright. Let's see, that one's a Geodude. Oh, that one's..."

_**8-8**_

* * *

"So which one is... that one?" I ask, pointing at a Piplup. Espurr thinks for a long moment, before she starts scratching her head with her paw. "That's Piplup."

"Es! Es purr!" she says, pointing excitedly. Her eyes light up from recognition as she bounces excitedly. She clearly remembers now, so I'm glad. Hmm, maybe if she knows more about each species, she's more likely to remember the name?

"That's right! Do you remember what type Piplups are?" I test her further. She shakes her head, questions in her eyes. "Water Type."

"Espurr Es?" she asks for confirmation.

"That's right. You're a Psychic Type, and Piplups are Water Type," I say, nodding sagely.

"Purr-es purr?" asks, tapping her chest to indicate herself. Her eyes seem to be filled with wonder, as she thinks about what that means for her.

"Yeah. You're a Psychic Type. You know what that means?" I ask. She shakes her head, no, furrowing her brow as she ponders it. "That means you're going to be super smart!" Her eyes widen in awe. "Sure, you have a lot of growing to do. But I know you're going to be so awesome! And you're going to be so gorgeous, too. And together... together we're going to be the best team. I know we will."

Tears well up, even as she turns to me to bury her face in the nape of my neck. I hold her close, a warmth swimming in my chest like never before. We're going to be so awesome, Ess. I know we will.

I know we will.

_**8-8**_

_**End Chapter 4**_

_**8-8**_

* * *

_**A/N: Progress is slow, but even baby steps should be taken.  
**_


End file.
